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The Music in It

Saturday, May 31, 2014

Haiku’s
origins have been traced to a form of Japanese poetry known as haikai no renga, a kind of linked poetry
that was practiced widely by Matsuo Bashō (1644-94) and his contemporaries. Over time, the
first link in a renga, the hokku, evolved into the haiku as we
understand it today. A minimalist form of poetry, haiku has been popular among
modern poets since the 1960s, when a western-world haiku movement generated
increased interest in the form. Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, Gary Snyder,
Billy Collins, John Ashbery, and Paul Muldoon have written haiku, and
haiku-like poems are found in the works of such literary greats as Ezra Pound,
Amy Lowell, and Richard Wright. Although something other than “mainstream”
poetry and very much its own genre, haiku is a unique and demanding form to
master.

In traditional
Japanese, the haiku is typically written vertically on the page (from top
to bottom). Each haiku contains seventeen onji (sound symbols). However, early
translators were mistaken when they assumed that onji were equivalent to
syllables in the English language and that haiku should be written in three
lines containing 5,7, and 5 syllables respectively. Although incorrect, these “defining”
qualities of haiku are still regarded as “haiku format” by many. A more
acceptable standard for English-language haiku is 10-20 syllables in 3 lines
with a longer second line and shorter first and third lines. That said, the
parameters are often stretched depending on content and meaning. Three lines
have become the norm, but haiku of one and two lines are also seen, and
syllable count varies

Traditional
haiku contain a kigo (season word) to
indicate the season or time of year in which the haiku takes place, along with two
phrases (or images) that are inherently unrelated but are juxtaposed to show
some commonality within a particular experience. Normally, one idea is
presented in the first two lines and then a switch occurs in the third.
Alternatively, a single idea is presented in the first line and a switch occurs
in the second and third lines. Nearly every haiku has this kind of two-part,
juxtapositional structure. The shift is achieved with what is called a kireji or cutting word, which “cuts” the
poem into two parts. The kireji is a
kind of caesura (and similar in theory to the volta in a sonnet) that signals a pause in the poem’s “thought” and suggests a parallel to
the preceding phrase, the following phrase, or provides a “dismount for the
poem that offers a finely tuned sense of closure.

Haiku
is, in a sense, an art of detachment in which the poet is removed enough from
the subject to write without self-interest or self-absorption but, rather, with
a sense of both inward and outward direction. The best haiku are life-affirming
and eternity-conscious, spontaneous and unpretentious but entirely focused
and either gently or startlingly profound.

Note: The word haiku forms its own plural – haikus is
incorrect.

Acknowledgment: The essay part of this prompt (above) first appeared in

1. Haiku
describe things in a very few words – they never tell, intellectualize, or
state feelings outrightly. They never use figures of speech (similes,
metaphors, etc.) and should not rhyme.

2. Haiku
is more than a simple genre or form of poetry—haiku is a way of seeing, a way
of capturing experience, a kind of “aha” moment or instant when something in
the ordinary captures our attention and leads us to a closer, more concentrated
look at its connection to nature, and human nature.

3. Haiku
don’t have titles, although haiku sequences do.

4. Brevity
is key, along with a sense of immediacy (written in the present tense) and
often a sense of relationship between nature and human nature. Some haiku poets
feel that one measure of a haiku’s success is its ability to be read in a
single breath. Most will agree that a successful haiku is characterized by
crystal-cutting clarity and in-the-moment presence.

5. Haiku
are about spiritual realities, the realities of our every-day lives, and the
realities of human- and natural-world relationships. Most importantly, haiku
honor the inside of an experience through attention to the outside.

6. Compact
and direct, haiku appear to be light and spontaneous, but their writing
requires careful reflection and discipline—haiku may even be considered a kind
of meditation. Finely-tuned powers of observation reveal the haiku moments that
happen continually in the world around us.

7. Don’t
be bound by any notions of 5,7,5 syllable structure—focus instead on use of
season words, two-part juxtapositions, and objective sensory imagery.

Tips:

1. Bashō
said that each
haiku should be “a thousand times on the tongue.” Before writing anything, read
many haiku from a range of sources to get a “feel” for the form. Be sure to
read some haiku that have been translated from the Japanese, but spend more
time on good haiku written in English. Read some of the haiku aloud.

2. After
you’ve read many haiku and have a sense of what they’re about, think about an
experience you’ve had.

3.
Remember the season in which you had the experience, and then think of a word
or phrase that suggests that season. For example, peonies is a season word for
spring; snow and ice are season words for winter. A simple phrase like “autumn
leaves” can evoke feelings of loneliness and the coming of darkness (shorted
days, longer nights) in winter. While many haiku appear to have a nature focus,
they are more-specifically based on a seasonal reference that as much about nature as it is within nature.

4.
Organize your thoughts into approximately three lines. First, set the scene,
then suggest a feeling and, finally, make an observation or record an
action. Write in the present tense, don’t use figures of speech (similes,
metaphors), and keep things simple.

5. Be
sure to include a contrast or a comparison. Remember that haiku often present
one idea in the first two lines and then switch quickly to something else in
the third. One of your goals is to create a “leap” between the two parts of
your haiku without making too obvious a connection between the parts or leaping
to a distance that’s unclear or obscure. At the same time, you must reveal the
emotions (not ideas) that you want to communicate without stating them overtly.

6. Try
to think of haiku in terms of your five senses—things you experience directly,
not ideas or your interpretation or analysis of “things.” Think in terms of
sensory description and avoid subjective terms.

7. Spend
time working on punctuation. In poems so brief, punctuation is important. Read
some of the examples and see how other haiku poets make punctuation work for
them in their haiku.

Examples:

From the
Japanese Masters

Winter seclusion –

Listening, that evening,

To the rain in the mountain.

— Issa

My life, –

How much more of it remains?

The night is brief.

— Shiki

Over the wintry

forest, winds howl in rage

with no leaves to blow.

— Soseki

No one travels

Along this way but I,

This autumn evening.

— Bashō

Contemporary
Haiku from Frogpond (Journal of the Haiku Society of America)

Saturday, May 24, 2014

I recently put together the video below, based on Nic Sebastian’s reading of my poem “The Trains”—a poem that goes back to a childhood time that, for me, continues to inform the present.

Thinking about trains “transported”
me into thoughts about the different ways we travel (in our daily lives to and
from work or school, to and from the grocery store, etc.), the ways in which we
travel for recreation and education, and the metaphorical travels we take.
“Travel,” more than just getting from one place to another, connects us to other
people, to other cultures, and can engage us in the art of adventure.

For this prompt, let’s think
about how we “travel” and write related poems.

Guidelines:

1. Think about all the ways we
get to where we want to go—actual modes of transportation: horses, cars,
trucks, trains, subways, boats, planes, bicycles, mopeds, motorcycles, trams,
baby carriages, elevators, hay wagons, monorails, wheelchairs, ziplines. Make a
list of types of transport that you’ve used. Which of these conjure up
especially memorable times. Select one to write about.

2. Today, we have various modes
of transport that we, perhaps, take for granted. Imagine what life would be
like without one or more of them.

3. How is “travel” a metaphor for
a time, place, or experience in your life? Or, how is a particular form of transport a metaphor for
something in your life?

4. What’s your favorite type of
transportation?

5. What’s your best travel
memory?

6. Is there a funny travel
experience in your life?

7. Have you ever been in a
situation in which you felt emotionally “transported” to another time or place?

8. Think about time travel (what
it means to journey through imagination, a time machine, or a wormhole).

9. Consider this T. S. Eliot
quotation, “We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our
exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first
time.” Can you relate Eliot’s words to a travel or transportation experience in
your life?

10. Think about this quote from
Buddha: “It is better to travel well than to arrive.” What does this mean or
suggest to you? Can you apply it to a personal experience?

Tips:

1.Don’t explain everything. Leave room for the reader to enter
and be part of your poem.

2. Avoid clichés and the
ordinary. Create images that are unique (and don’t be afraid to be different,
take chances, experiment).

3. Because this poem is about
travel, find ways to evoke a sense of movement in your poem. (Think in terms of
language, form, and meter/sound—try to create a regular meter or metrical
pattern for your poem.)

4. Use details sparingly—too many
details can spoil an otherwise good poem. Don’t allow your poem to become
cluttered with minutia. Too many details can make a poem feel claustrophobic.

5. Only include what’s essential.
You know the old adage—if a poem only contains five good lines, then the poem
should be five lines long.

6. Read your poem out loud and
listen to how it sounds, then edit (tweak and refine).

Saturday, May 17, 2014

Try and penetrate with our limited means the secrets of nature and you
will find that, behind all the discernible laws and connections, there remains
something subtle, intangible, and inexplicable.

— Albert Einstein

Our universe is filled with
mysteries that neither history nor science can explain. From paranormal
occurrences to UFO sightings, to mysterious creatures and places, there are
both hoaxes and real phenomena that exist in the space between legend and
reality. Many of these defy forensics and psychology and exist only in the
shadowy archives of the unknown. What is it about the odd and unexplained that
excites our curiosity and stirs our imaginations?

We’ve all read about or seen TV
documentaries or fictional accounts of a Bigfoot or another moving into a dense
forest, planes going down in the Bermuda Triangle, alien abductions on dark
country roads, and the ghosts of British royalty lurking in dark castle halls
(some without their heads).

Along with unusual phenomena of
the mind, such as feelings of déjà vu, there’s something about the mysterious
and the unexplained that invites us to explore—to be thrilled and frightened by—
such subjects.

Psychology suggests that the
mysterious and unexplained are uniquely linked to human experience. They are certainly
linked to human entertainment.

This week, let’s create some special “entertainment” with a
poem about something weird, odd, or unexplained.

Guidelines:

1. Some subject ideas:

Bigfoot

Bermuda
Triangle

Loch Ness Monster

Stonehenge

Jack
the Ripper

Out-of-Body Experience

Ghosts (Poltergeists)

UFOs or Aliens

Crop Circles

Chupacabras

2. Have you ever had an “unexplained experience,” something otherworldly? If so,
write a poem about it.

3. Is there a particular unsolved mystery that interests you
(Bigfoot, Shroud of Turin, ghosts)?

4. Consider writing from the point of view of an unexplained
creature or mysterious person (Jack the Ripper, the Loch Ness Monster, Bigfoot,
a chupacabra, a ghost, an alien life form).

5. You might want to think about a spiritual or faith-based
poem dealing with a subject such as the Shroud of Turin.

Tips:

1. Create a feeling or tone that fits your subject.

2. Use language that suits your content and tone.

3. Work on a sense of the visual.

4. Think in terms of sonic impression—the music you make in
your poem. Figure out how you can use sounds to enhance the “music” of your words
(alliteration, assonance, internal rhyme, off-rhyme, anaphora).

5. Pose a question that’s impossible to answer.

6. Can you move beyond the obvious subject of your poem and
suggest a deeper meaning?

7. Try to create a concluding image that will startle your
readers with its unexpectedness.

Saturday, May 10, 2014

I’d never written an intentional ode before learning that I was
going to be honored with the 2014 Kean University Distinguished Alumni Award.
Apart from being profoundly grateful for such an unexpected honor, I found the
idea of making a ten-minute speech at the awards ceremony a little daunting. I
knew from the get-go that instead of a traditional speech, I’d much prefer to write
and read a poem for Kean U.

It didn’t occur to me until much
after the poem was written that it is indeed an ode, not in any formal sense,
but definitely in spirit. I began to research the form, having little prior
interest in odes other than perhaps Keats’s “Ode to A Grecian Urn” (and that
only because I like Keats).

An ode is generally defined as a
poem in which someone or something is addressed in an elevated style or manner
and written in rhymed or unrhymed form with varied or irregular meter.

Historically, odes were invented
and popularized by the Greek poet Pindar. Originally accompanied by a chorus
and dance, and then taken to heart by the Romantic poets to convey strong
sentiments, there are three types of odes: Pindaric, Horatian, and Irregular.

Pindaric odes contain a formal
opening (a strophe) with a complex metrical structure, followed by an
antistrophe (which echoes the opening) and an epode (the closing section of a
different length and composed with a different metrical structure). William
Wordsworth’s “Ode on Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early
Childhood” is agood example of an
English-language Pindaric ode.

Horatian odes are named for the
Roman poet Horace and tend to be more tranquil and contemplative than Pindaric
odes. Less formal, less solemn, and geared more to gentle reading than performance,
Horatian odes typically use a regular, repeating stanza pattern. An excellent
example of the Horatian Ode is Allen Tate’s “Ode to the Confederate Dead.”

Irregular odes have been written
with a range of formal possibilities, sometimes recalling the themes and tones
of Classical odes. Keats’s “Ode on
a Grecian Urn,” which I mentioned earlier, was based on the poet’s experiments
with sonnet form. Other well-known odes include Percy Bysshe Shelley's “Ode to
the West Wind,” Robert Creeley's “America,” and Robert Lowell's “Quaker
Graveyard in Nantucket.”

Of course, it’s not poetically
incorrect to write an ode that’s not Pindaric, Horatian, or Irregular. You can
make up your own form and simply write a poem that honors or praises someone or
something in any way that you choose (see #6 under “guidelines”). So ... don't be frightened off by what may seem lofty or ambitious. Have fun with this!

Guidelines:

1. Generally, stanza length, meter, and
rhyme are flexible in ode composition, which leaves you lots of room for
experimentation and creativity.

2. The ode is traditionally a longish
poetic form. Because you’re honoring someone or something, you’ll want to
include a fair amount of description and/or detail. Think about writing your
ode in four-line stanzas with a minimum of about five stanzas.

3. If you choose to write a
Pindaric Ode, remember that this form of ode traditionally tends to be serious
in tone and often has a historical perspective. Typically, Pindaric odes
celebrated deities, important people, places, and events (rather than more
commonplace people or things) in a tone that was somewhat distant or detached
and something less than passionate. Keep in mind that Pindaric Odes repeat a three-stanza pattern
throughout the entire poem (a triad that consists of the strophe, antistrophe,
and epode).

4. If you choose to write a
Horatian Ode, remember that this form of ode doesn’t have a fixed stanza
length, but each stanza in your ode should have the same number of lines (as
few as two or three lines or as many as 20 or 30 lines). Every stanza in a Horatian
Ode should be the same length—if there are four lines in your first stanza,
then every other stanza should have four lines. Traditionally, Horatian Odes
are personal but are somewhat reserved with emotions more muted than wildly
fervent.

5. If you choose to write an
Irregular Ode, be aware that this form of ode has no predetermined number of
lines and, unlike other ode forms, each stanza within a single ode can contain
a different number of lines (though they may be the same or similar if you wish).
An Irregular Ode might consist of five three-line stanzas that are book-ended
by two stanzas of five lines each.

6. And … I’ll add the “Freeform
Ode” in which you praise or honor someone or something without any attention to
format all: no set number of lines, no set number of stanzas (stichic format is
fine too), no rhyme, and no prescribed meter. You’re free to be as distant or
as passionate as you like!

Tips:

1.An ode should only be focused on a single topic, so choose
wisely.

2. Think in terms ofperson, object, place, idea,
relationship, animal/pet, or a time in your life for your subject. Because an
ode praises and honors its subject, be sure to choose a subject that will allow
you to develop a strong emotional center.

3. Decide how long you want your
ode to be, and be sure not to over-write it. Although odeshave been on the long side by
tradition, that doesn’t mean yours has to be along poem.

4. Decide on a stanza format that
appeals to you (number of lines and number of stanzas). You may want to write
for a while before making these determinations.

5. You may want to try a rhyme
scheme for your ode—if you do, be sure to avoid the pitfall ofmaking meaning subordinate to rhyme.

8. Don’t be afraid to adopt a
lighthearted approach, especially if you choose to write a Freeform Ode. You
might enjoy writing an ode on an unexpected subject (i.e., a cockroach, a head
cold, weeds in your garden, a person you dislike). Be sure to “play” with your
idea through romantic language, linguistic frills and flourishes, and a
convincing argument for praising your unexpected subject idea.

Saturday, May 3, 2014

We
come back to our regular prompt schedule this weekend following a wonderful
National Poetry Month. To all who visited, commented, and wrote or read poems,
here’s a big THANK YOU! The poems and comments posted added so much to this
annual celebration of poetry and sharing. Kudos and special thanks go to Risa Roberts and Basil Rouskas who both posted poems for just about every day of the month!

On this first Saturday of May, I’m happy
to post a prompt from guest prompter Marie-Elizabeth Mali, the author of Steady, My Gaze (Tebot Bach, 2011) and
co-editor with Annie Finch of the anthology, Villanelles (Everyman's Library Pocket Poets, 2012). Marie-Elizabeth graduated
Summa Cum Laude from Pacific College of Oriental Medicine in San Diego in 1998
with a Master of Traditional Oriental Medicine degree and graduated Phi Beta
Kappa from Oberlin College in 1989 with a B.A. in East Asian Studies. Before receiving her MFA from Sarah
Lawrence College in 2009, she practiced Traditional Chinese Medicine.

Her work has appeared in numerous
journals, including Calyx, Poet Lore, and RATTLE, among others, and she has served as co-curator for
the Page Meets Stage reading series from 2008-2012. She also co-curated louderARTS:
the Reading Series from May 2008 through December 2011.

A
distinguished poet, Marie-Elizabeth is also an amazing underwater photographer.
To view some of her stunning underwater photographs, please click here.

_______________________________

From
Marie-Elizabeth:

It’s
no secret that love poems are tough to write. They too easily veer into cliché
and sentimentality. But cliché and sentimentality happen when a poem is too
general, when the poet reaches for stock phrases and common images to represent
love, or when the poet relies on declarations of feeling instead of imagery. That
said, the best love poems walk right up to the edge of sentimentality but don’t
go over the cliff. Here are four ideas for ways to enter the tricky terrain of
the love poem.

1.
Choose an animal and research its mating rituals, parenting practices, feeding
practices, etc. Write a poem about that animal as if it were someone you love.

2.
Another effective strategy to counteract the tendency toward sentimentality is
the use of humor. Try writing about a funny moment you and your love shared, or didn’t share. Sometimes the humor is found in
misunderstanding.

WELCOME!

THE MUSIC IN IT

"The Music In It" is a blog for anyone interested in poets and poetry—the craft and the community.

The title comes from Countee Cullen, who wrote: "My poetry, I should think, has become the way of my giving out whatever music is in me."

Look for a new prompt or guest blogger every week or every other week, usually posted on Saturdays, and check the archives for older prompts and posts. Be sure to click on the poetry-related links in the sidebar.

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"Kenny has written some of the most hauntingly beautiful spiritual haiku I’ve ever read—haiku that take us as close to divinity as human language can get. Her haiku are spare and commanding, rich in imagery, and layered with meaning." (Alex Pinto, Tiferet)

“Traditional haiku, environmental haiku, psychological haiku, spiritual haiku—Adele Kenny has done them all. Her haiku are spare and powerful, always nuanced with rich symbolism. Her images and juxtapositions make readers hold their breath in wonder.” (Malachy McCourt, Author of A Monk Swimming)

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"In Adele Kenny's finely wrought meditations on grief and loss, she never forgets that she's a maker of poems. What Matters straddles two of the exigencies of the human condition: diminishment and endurance. It abounds with poems that skillfully earn their sentiments." (Stephen Dunn, Pulitzer Prize in Poetry)

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I’m the author of 24 books (poetry & nonfiction) with poems published in journals worldwide, as well as in books and anthologies from Crown, Tuttle, Shambhala, and McGraw-Hill.
I’ve worked as a guest poet for numerous agencies, have twice been a featured reader in the Dodge Poetry Festival, and my awards include two poetry fellowships from the NJ State Arts Council, the 2012 International Book Award for Poetry, and the Distinguished Alumni Award (Kean University). My book, A LIGHTNESS, A THIRST, OR NOTHING AT ALL, is a 2016 Paterson Prize finalist. In March of 2012, I was appointed Poet Laureate of Fanwood, NJ by the Borough Mayor and Council.
A former professor of creative writing in the College of New Rochelle’s Graduate School, I’m founding director of the Carriage House Poetry Series and poetry editor for Tiferet Journal. I give readings and conduct both agency-sponsored and private poetry workshops.

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ATTENTION HAIKU POETS

If your area of interest is haiku and its related forms, click the image above for a list of journals (published in various countries) that might interest you.

ON THE TIP OF YOUR TONGUE

Ever find yourself in the middle of a poem and unable to find that one perfect word? Here's the link for a site that provides synonyms, antonyms, related words, similar sounding words, and much more. Easy to use!